


It Runs Deep

by BobRussellFan



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobRussellFan/pseuds/BobRussellFan
Summary: A year after Michael Burnham vanishes, her older brother tracks down her younger.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 59





	It Runs Deep

Earth  
2259  
Jerusalem 

Spock sat alone outside the crowded eatery, sampling the tabbouleh his mother had suggested and reflecting the way the dish (and the city) modeled the principles of IDIC. The mix of fruits, herbs, and spices ensured each sampling of the meal was unique - just as Jerusalem itself was unique. The city that had been a bone of contention among Terran religions, empires, and nation-states for centuries was now an unrivaled tourist destination for human and non-human alike, a garden spot set amid a desert that was now protected against exploitation. It was summer here, a balmy 35 degrees Celsius that left him comfortable in his blue uniform. 

“Well that’s certainly a choice,” Number One had commented about his garments before seeing him off on his two-week leave, a thoroughly illogical Starfleet regulation that followed the promotion from Lieutenant to Lieutenant Commander. 

“Indeed it is,” he had told her, his hands folded behind his back and his eyebrow raised, before Chief Pitcairn had beamed him down to his destination here in the heartland of the largest Terran megacontinent. 

He hadn’t quite understood her meaning - until the first greetings had begun. _Thank you for your service_ was, it seemed, the way many humans had chosen to greet all Starfleet officers, an outcome over their gratitude over the end of the recent war with the Klingons; one that the Federation had officially chosen _not_ to designate Burnham’s War at the personal request of the Vulcan Ambassador. He had been told the fashion of such greetings was on its way out, but perhaps it was the novelty of a Vulcan here on Earth that attracted their attention. 

The humans had not been interested in an explanation of how one did not thank what had only been logical service, so he had chosen to take his meals out here where the heat was typically enough to repel all but the most determined humans. That, he told himself, was why he was taken unprepared when a Vulcan hailed him across the crowded street. “SPOCK!” Spock, recognizing the voice, turned and felt his skin flush green for the first time in eighteen months. 

Sybok had changed since Spock’s boyhood - his hair grown thick and shaggy in the pre-Reformation fashion, a beard (of the same era) grown in dark and thick - but in some ways, especially from that look in his eyes, he hadn’t changed at all. 

“Spock!” Sybok strode up to Spock, offered his hand, threw his arms wide, and then, meeting Spock’s steely gaze, raised his hand in the salute. “Spock, you’re a hard man to find.” 

Spock found logic in the formalities, folding his hands before him as he stared up at his castaway half-brother. “As a Starfleet officer, my movements are typically part of the public record,” he said evenly. 

“Oh, for…” With a sigh, Sybok sat down without having been invited. “Spock, when _brothers_ see each other,” he added, “there’s supposed to be...something! I thought that after all these years as an outcast in Sarek’s eyes, you might be more willing to speak with me.” 

Spock considered Sybok’s response, then said, “I _am_ speaking with you.” There was silence between the two Vulcans for a moment, briefly interrupted by the arrival of the rather harried waiter. Spock took a moment to watch Sybok as he flashed a huge smile at the young man, cheerfully inquiring about the specials before ordering the vegan falafel. Sybok was...still himself, and had not seemingly descended into madness. “I am...gratified to see you,” he said when the server had gone. They switched to Vulcan now, the table’s privacy settings ensuring that no Universal Translators would overhear. 

“And I to see you,” said Sybok, looking at his once-brother and sighing softly. “I tried calling Father, but there was no help there.” He smiled thinly. “I think Amanda would have heard me out, but of _course_ it was Sarek who answered the call…” He looked away for a moment. “I need help. You’re the only one I can turn to now.” 

“What help do you need?” It was, he had to admit, difficult to think what Sybok had in mind - unless Sybok was about to make the offer he had first made years earlier, when Sybok was just a man and Spock still a boy… 

Sybok leaned across the table and said, “_Where is our sister_?” 

Spock rose to his feet, neatly set a credit chip down on the table in front of him that would cover both his and Sybok’s order, and walked away. Spluttering, Sybok pursued, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around, his voice raised before Spock said firmly, “Not. Here.” 

They walked together, Starfleet officer and outcast Vulcan, or perhaps it was outcast Vulcan and human half-breed, until they reached their destination. Spock had familiarized himself with Jerusalem’s history his first night in the area, and knew precisely where they were going. He was surprised to realize, from a muttered comment from Sybok, that the latter knew as well. 

The Al-Aqsa Mosque was dedicated to one of the few Terran sects that had survived the Post-Atomic Horror of the 21st century. It was an ancient site, long-revered by that sect and its relatives, and was by ancient tradition placed inside a particle field that blocked all outside scanning. It was the closest thing to privacy that the Old City of Jerusalem allowed. The two Vulcans found a place outside the Mosque proper where they could speak, behind a wall that must have been ancient when an Augment commander had made this place her stronghold in the last great battle of the Eugenics Wars. 

Spock turned to Sybok, who had been silent most of the walk up the Mount, and the two men looked at each other before Spock - told the truth. As much as he could, anyway. 

“Michael Burnham perished on Stardate 1051.8 while undertaking a classified Starfleet mission.” 

Sybok stared at him and said, “...how?” 

“I am not at liberty to divulge that information,” he said frankly. “Arguably even discussing this matter with you is a violation of Starfleet regulations.” He was reasonably sure, if it came up, that Sybok would be counted as Michael Burnham’s relative even if Vulcan law meant he was no longer technically Vulcan. 

“Not at-” Sybok spluttered, and muttered an Earth curse under his breath that Spock recognized as belonging to a local language. “Was it...was it fighting the Klingons?” he hazarded. “Spock, the war is over! Surely you can tell me _something._” 

“I cannot.” Spock was comfortable with admitting his own regret, even if he tried to avoid showing it to Sybok. But Sybok, with uncanny intuition, stared at him. 

“Spock, I can see there’s more to it!” He reached for Spock, who stepped back, his spine rigid. “You’re keeping a secret from me. In Surak’s name, man-” 

“I do not believe it is appropriate for you to invoke Surak under these circumstances,” Spock replied. He regretted the words - but Sybok had rattled him with the near touch. 

Sybok flushed green, and for a moment Spock was convinced his brother’s next attempt to touch him would be a blow. “So that’s it,” Sybok snarled. “Our sister, your elder, my younger, dead. Sarek and Amanda will not speak her name! I look at the monuments to the dead on Earth and Vulcan and she goes unmourned. Don’t you...care, at all?” 

“I do care,” said Spock, his voice tight - at least by his own standards. “More than you can know. But I am bound by Starfleet regulations - and by her desire to remain out of history. _Brother_,” he said firmly, taking a step back towards Sybok. “She would not want you to continue down this road. _Please_.”

Sybok took a breath, seeming to calm himself. “You were there.” 

“Yes.” 

“Was it…” He looked for words, then said, “was it worth it?” 

“Yes.” This, at least, Spock could say with the utmost sincerity. 

Sybok took a deep breath and looked at Spock, his eyes full of unshed tears. “I find that hard to believe. But...of anyone in the family, I’ve always known I could trust you the most. I will take your word for it.” 

“Thank you,” said Spock sincerely. “I am...grateful, as would she be if she were standing here.” He considered a moment, then said, “Are you well?” 

“I am. I have continued my studies here on Earth, but now I think it’s time for me to go.” He turned and looked out at Jerusalem, making a gesture at the towering skyscrapers that rose on the edge of the metropolis, far higher than the hills of the Old City could ever reach. “Outside of a few precious places like this, humans have forgotten to aspire to something greater than uniformity. I’ve booked passage on a freighter to Andor, and after that...well, who knows. I just had to...I had to get some answers before I left.” 

Spock nodded, then said, “Will you join me for the evening meal? I believe it would be...just.” Sybok looked at Spock and smiled, restraining the grin in a way that Spock appreciated. 

“As long as you’re buying, brother.” 

It would be the last meal the brothers shared. But not the last time they met.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, folks!


End file.
